


Sing For Absolution

by Reis_Asher



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, M/M, Pre-Canon, Service Submission, Training, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29819592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Takemura has been given the task of training Hanako Arasaka's new bodyguard, Oda, but it turns out Oda has a thing or two to teach him in return...
Relationships: Saburo Arasaka/Goro Takemura, Sandayu Oda/Goro Takemura
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Sing For Absolution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TakemurasDroppedBurger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakemurasDroppedBurger/gifts).



> A commission for TakemurasDroppedBurger, I hope you enjoy it!

Takemura looked through the window at the man he’d been sent to train. He lay in the expensive Arasaka clinic recovering from a series of new implants designed to enhance his combat abilities so that he might join the elite ranks of the Arasaka family bodyguards. He was youthful, barely in his twenties by the looks of him, but such things were hard to discern with the advent of cyberware. He’d been chipped more extensively than Takemura himself, and it was hard to know if anything remained of the original.

He loaded the man’s chart. Sandayu Oda. Picked up as a teenager in Chiba-11, just like him. Fought in Arasaka’s corporate army for a couple of decades. A long list of commendations scrolled past his eyes, followed by an even more extensive diagram of implants. Oda could have been any of the boys washing alongside him in the river, and Takemura wouldn’t have recognized him, but there was something about his face that spoke of inexperience and youth. Oda came from the same place, at a different time. Perhaps that was just as well. Arasaka’s screening would have ensured they weren’t related by blood—the corporation was always careful to eliminate any ties that might bind tighter than gratitude, such as family.

That, and the training Takemura was expected to render was more than mere battle technique. Oda was to become a corporate samurai, loyal to the Arasaka family, and he would be expected to serve them as Takemura had served them—with blood, sweat, and sex. He had to do more than teach Oda to endure it. It was his job to ensure Oda enjoyed every moment, begging to please the Arasakas and their guests at decadent corporate parties where he would be passed around like a delicately prepared appetizer. The things that could be learned between the sheets often revealed Arasaka’s true enemies, and it would be Oda’s job to eliminate any threat, during the act of sex if necessary. The psych screening would have made sure he was a suitable fit for the role, but the rest came down to old-fashioned conditioning.

By the time Oda was finished his training, he would relish the moments when he brought pleasure to the Arasakas. They had by and far been the best moments of Takemura’s life, down on his knees before Saburo-sama eager and willing to please. Masturbating himself on a couch while he watched Saburo-sama’s hungry eyes from across the room. Itching to make his hands tremble even slightly on the bonsai shears even though he would be punished for it.

His cock twitched thinking of Saburo-sama’s intricate torments. Sometimes he would spend hours tying the knots, binding Takemura in _shibari_ while he filled his system with drugs that kept his cock hard and aching. He never broke and begged for mercy, even when Yorinobu entered his father’s office and assaulted his dignity, calling him a doll.

Yorinobu-sama did not understand the relationship between Saburo and Takemura, but he was still an Arasaka, and so Takemura was grateful when he punched him in the balls while his father was out of the office. He came, shuddering out his release all over Yorinobu-sama’s fist as the man recoiled in surprise. He existed for their pleasure, and sometimes the sadistic acts were his favorites. Someday, Yorinobu-sama would kill him, and he would say please and thank you for that, also, so long as he didn’t do it in the name of threatening the family. He was grateful for the life he’d led at the Arasakas’ whims, a life of decadence and luxury that would have been impossible in the slums, but he was not oblivious to the snake hiding in the corn, waiting for its opportunity to sink its fangs into the heart of the empire.

Now it was his turn to have a student. Saburo-sama was rewarding him for his service, and he would not let him down. Hanako-sama needed a bodyguard, and she would have the finest. A man cut from his own cloth, trained to hold the protection and pleasure of the Arasaka family as his number one priority.

“He is ready, Takemura-san. I have orders to release him to your care.” The doctor bowed, and Takemura entered the room.

“Get up,” Takemura ordered.

“I cannot move,” Oda replied. “The implants need time to meld with my flesh.”

“The body is only a shell,” Takemura instructed. “Your first lesson is to overcome its limitations. Get up.”

“You are to be my mentor?” Surprise flickered in Oda’s eyes. “I’ve heard the legends—Arasaka-sama’s bodyguard and lover—”

“I am to be your _god_ ,” Takemura explained. “Until you leave my care to serve a greater deity, you belong to me. Arasaka-sama has relinquished your human rights to me. I am to do with you as I please, and if you fail to become the bodyguard they expect…”

Oda sat up. Takemura couldn’t help but be impressed. Most failed this step. No amount of pain editors or drugs could completely kill the pain of new implants or mitigate the immune response of a body trying to reject foreign objects. The sheen on Oda’s brow spoke of a fever, and yet he tried to move his legs, pivoting to the side and standing on his own two feet.

He fell at once, pitching forward. Takemura swallowed his own pity. It would not be a favor to catch him. Oda would fall many times, and he had to learn to swallow the taste of indignity and failure if he was to succeed. He fell to the floor, bringing an IV stand and a cart of medical tools to the ground with him.

“Get _up_ ,” Takemura barked. “How can you hope to protect Hanako-sama lying on the floor?”

Oda immediately pushed himself up with his hands, crawling to his feet. His robe fell away, revealing a patchwork of implants and an impressive cock. That was real, and Takemura had no doubt that was one of the reasons for his selection. Oda seemed to have no shame in being seen naked. A good first step.

“I am ready to serve, Takemura-sama.”

“Come. You have much to learn.”

* * *

Takemura devoted a week to combat, at which Oda needed little training. He took to his implants like he’d been born with them, wielding his mantis blades with agility and technique that put Takemura’s skills to the test. Takemura raised his katana defensively, barely able to deflect the relentless strikes coming from Oda’s attacks as they trained in the dark.

One strong strike knocked him back and he lost his footing, sprawling backwards onto the mat. Oda leapt onto him, a vicious snarl painted across his face. Through his black clothing, Takemura felt Oda’s erect cock pressing into his thigh.

If he let Oda fuck him now, he’d lose control. He’d have to put the man down like a rabid dog. If he couldn’t serve Takemura, he wasn’t safe to put in Hanako-sama’s orbit. Takemura raised his knee, striking Oda in the balls. Oda sagged, collapsing onto his side and howling in pain. Takemura got up and rolled Oda onto his back with one booted foot. Oda kept his hands over his balls, trying to protect himself.

“Move your hands,” Takemura commanded.

Oda did as he was told, the sanity returning to his eyes. Takemura pursed his lips as he noticed the wet patch streaked with white globs of cum pooling on the front of Oda’s tight leggings. His cheeks were colored crimson. Shame.

“There is no shame in this,” Takemura explained. “The Arasakas enjoy rough play. It is to your advantage.”

“You are my teacher. I have dishonored myself.” The light from Oda’s thermal mantis blades illuminated his face in the gloom.

“To the contrary. I have little to teach you regarding the ways of combat. I suspect Arasaka-sama knew this when he instructed me to teach you. It is self-control I must tutor, that you might align your desires with those of our masters. To want what they want, when they want it.” He unzipped his fly, his cock tumbling out. The close encounter with Oda had aroused him, and it was his turn to teach a lesson--an enjoyable one at that.

“You know how to suck cock?” Takemura asked, circling like a vulture. Oda sat up, retracting his mantis blades. They were in total darkness now, but Takemura’s optic implants were designed for night vision. Oda had the same implants, rendering them predators in the gloom.

“Of course, Takemura-sama.” Oda shuffled over to Takemura on his knees. He grabbed Takemura’s cock in his hand, licking up the underside of it. Takemura shuddered. He had not seen Saburo-sama in weeks, and he’d been busy with failed recruits. If he did not bring back a suitable bodyguard for Hanako-sama, he would be punished with a further dry spell.

Something told him Oda was the one, however. A warrior’s instinct, perhaps. He needed fine-tuning, refinement, but he had honor. Technique. And he didn’t so much as gag when Takemura thrust his cock all the way in Oda’s mouth and started to fuck his face. Takemura gripped Oda’s head, weaving his fingers through silken black hair.

It would be too easy to lose control and cum down Oda’s throat. He could undo his own training easily, allowing himself to want for his own pleasure. This may have been the entire motivation behind Saburo-san’s order to train a bodyguard—a test of his loyalty.

He pushed Oda back. Oda gasped for breath and looked up at him. “Did I do something wrong, Takemura-sama?”

“You tell me. Did you?” Takemura closed his eyes and forced himself to remain calm. He wanted nothing more than to cum down this boy’s throat and show him his place, but that was not the order of things. Saburo-sama had handed him Oda’s human rights to see what he would do with them. To see if he was as power-hungry as most Arasaka corpos, sycophants who vied for any little sliver of control they could get and abused the hell out of it.

“You want to come down my throat. I want you to.” Oda’s words were smooth as silk, alluring beyond belief. Takemura yearned, and shame flooded him.

“There is no _I_ in this equation, Oda. For either of us. I am here to serve Arasaka-sama’s wishes. To anticipate his desires. You shall do the same for Hanako-sama. To this end, we give up such petty things as wanting.”

“Have you ever had sex with Hanako-sama?” Oda blurted out.

Takemura narrowed his eyes at the impetuous question. “No. I belong to Arasaka-sama, though Hanako-sama has seen me engage in sexual acts.”

Oda blinked. “With her father?”

Takemura’s temper flared at Oda’s sudden blasphemy. “With her _guests_. With other _bodyguards_. What would you accuse the Arasaka family of?” Takemura’s blade was at Oda’s throat in an instant. How disappointing, that he would have to put down this talented boy after all. What madness had come over him that his tongue flapped such careless nonsense, the gutter trash of screamsheets and pirate radio broadcasts over in that American pit they called Night City?

Low lights flicked on, illuminating the training area. A slow clap filled the air, and Takemura looked up to see Saburo enter the dojo. He bowed at once.

“Put down your weapon,” Saburo demanded. Takemura threw down the katana like it had burned him. It clanged against the floor, the sound echoing off the walls.

Oda scrambled to his feet and followed Takemura’s example.

“I think he is ready, Goro.” Saburo circled Oda, a thin smile playing across his lips. He lifted Oda’s chin. “How did it feel to speak ill of me and my daughter?”

“I will cut off any piece of me to atone, Saburo-sama,” Oda said. “A finger, or my tongue. My mouth has shamed me.”

“My best netrunner hacked you and moved your tongue like a puppet,” Saburo explained. “I wanted to test you both. You have passed.”

Takemura didn’t miss the sag in Oda’s shoulders, though most would have. A lesser man would have sobbed at Saburo’s feet, but Oda had pride. He was no cowardly leech begging for his life. Takemura had no doubt that if Saburo had asked him to cut out his tongue, he would have taken the knife and done it without question.

He felt a synergy with Oda in that moment that he couldn’t explain. They both loved the Arasakas. They both belonged to them. They would give anything to serve.

“I have travelled too long,” Saburo complained. Takemura rushed to get him a chair, and helped him into it. “Give me a show. Remind Oda who he belongs to, who dictates the pleasure he will receive and when.”

“Yes, Saburo-sama.” Takemura disrobed. Oda did the same, his cock already starting to stir. So, he was learning that servitude was a pleasure in and of itself. Saburo was right. Oda had nothing more to learn.

He lubed his fingers and slipped them one at a time into Oda’s hole. Oda gasped, making a show of it for Saburo-sama, who shifted in his seat. Takemura kept his eyes on his master as well, even as he sank his cock into Oda’s hole and began to thrust.

“Exquisite,” Saburo gasped, his hand disappearing into his robe. Takemura thrust slowly, knowing it took Saburo-sama a while to reach his peak at his advanced age. He could sense Oda’s impatience, but he kept it well-controlled. This was all for him. For the Arasakas. For this life they led, filled with decadent pleasures most had to pay for.

“Saburo-sama,” Oda gasped, shuddering his release into Takemura’s palm. The whisper of their benefactor’s name was more erotic than anything else Oda could have said in that moment, and it drove Takemura over the edge. He came inside Oda, whispering a stream of words from a Japanese poem.

They pulled apart and immediately looked to Saburo-sama, who dozed in the chair. He’d missed the highlight of their show. Takemura dressed quickly, vowing to make it up to Saburo-sama later on.

“I believe you have duties to attend to, Oda,” Takemura said. “As do I.” He walked over to Saburo-sama and gently lifted him from his chair. He would take him up to bed, granting all his wishes upon awakening.

It could be a lonely endeavor, but as he looked back at Oda, he felt something akin to fellowship well inside him, and he suspected it would not be the last time he had sex with Hanako-sama’s new bodyguard.

Perhaps he could be allowed one pleasure of his own, after all.


End file.
